I saw you sighing under the sequin night,
singing a dream to sleep the stars.
Could we reach a breath beyond this veil of velvet sky that keeps the Earthlings blind?
Tonight, behind the moon’s eye, let us stand tip-toe and catch hold of comet tails.
We will sail up up up through the thinning atmosphere
and swirl in slow orbit.
These local stars and satellites are just old wishes,
and our spinning arm of the Milky Way is not such a wild ride.
Leave those island-hoppers to their tropics and sardine-can beaches.
Let’s go planet hopping instead,
and bounce on till glacial Pluto
where that view of spanning infinity must be to die for.

We will go onward, ever onward.

And all is fair in love and starships,
so build me your best.

Drop letters under every door,
signed with love from the sci-fi junkies,
like last laments of fledgling children leaving home.
Tell them not to worry.
We are going out there—
There, the great vague vacuity
of shattered static space-time,
where every dream I’ve ever owned has found me.
We are going home.
I see a spaceman,
And I think he says hello.
Welcome home. Welcome home.
So spin me a haphazard hope;
Tell me this is something more than interstellar fanfare.
It would be best to take up residence in a nebula,
nestled down deep inside those folds of astral clouds,
with the pulsing matter of infant stars to keep warm by.
And all around us tick and tock the inner workings of the universe
as it gives life to itself.

We will go onward, ever onward.

And all is fair in love and starships,
so build me your best.